


Genesis 18:15

by morningstar921



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Abraham (Bible) - Freeform, Gen, Genesis 18 (Bible), Sarah (Bible), Unnamed Angel #3, aka the story where sarah laughs at god, and god doesn't like that very much, and slaps sarah across the face with a sassy reply, mostly i was just too lazy to name him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 09:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21505291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morningstar921/pseuds/morningstar921
Summary: The Lord sends three men to bless Abraham and Sarah with a child. Gabriel has no tact, his assistant is a silent menace, and Aziraphale wishes to be anywhere but here. Ninety years old and decidedly barren, Sarah wishes they had not come.Based on Genesis 18 in the Bible.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Genesis 18:15

Aziraphale stumbles in the sand trying to keep pace with Gabriel and their silent companion. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather return to Heaven?” he says.

Gabriel sighs. “Yes, Aziraphale. If the Almighty has a message to send, I send it personally. That’s my job. I didn’t think it was that hard to understand.”

Aziraphale wrings his hands. “Well, yes, yes, I know. I meant… well, it’s just that you’re so busy, and I figured…” He trails off, wondering how best to tell Gabriel he simply has no tact and might frighten the poor humans. A real wonder the Almighty chose Gabriel of all angels to be Her messenger. “I mean, couldn’t I just relay the message for you? I’ve been here for so long, I know how to speak with humans --”

“No, Aziraphale.”

“Ah, yes. Alright.”

The third angel, who has yet to give Aziraphale his name and likely will not, grunts his assent. 

The three angels approach a lone tent. In the sparse shade of an oak tree, an old man lays sleeping. Abraham, the Almighty’s most recent favorite. Judging by the quiet sound of humming from the tent, his wife Sarah must be inside. 

Clearing his throat, Gabriel places himself in front of Aziraphale and their companion and says, “Prepare to receive a message from the Almighty.” At this, Abraham startles awake from his sleep and Sarah stops humming; she pokes her head around the tent flap. 

Abraham casts a sharp gaze across the three angels and says shortly, “My Lord.” Aziraphale shrinks back a little at the intensity. Here is a man unafraid. “May I offer you some bread as your humble servant?”

“That’s hardly necessary --” Gabriel begins, scrunching up his nose, though Aziraphale exclaims, “We would be delighted!” The third angel scowls as if to say _how dreadfully human of you._

“Aziraphale, why don’t you oversee this man’s wife?” Gabriel nudges his head in the direction of the tent, at which point Sarah draws his head back into its folds. “As a gracious guest, of course.”

Nodding, Aziraphale follows Abraham to the tent. He ducks inside while Abraham instructs Sarah to make three cakes, one for each angel. “Be a dear and bring them some milk and curds while they wait,” Sarah says. She passes a jar of milk to Aziraphale, which he takes with a soft smile and slowly sips, while her husband takes the rest back outside. 

When they are left alone, Aziraphale is left in awkward silence with Sarah. He cradles the jar of milk in his hands, turning it back and forth with his fingertips. Sarah takes a heap of dough and kneads it, occasionally looking up at Aziraphale through the veil of her hair. Eventually, Aziraphale says, “So, Sarah…”

“I do not understand why the Almighty renamed me,” Sarah says abruptly. She stops kneading the dough. “Why call me Sarah? What was wrong with Sarai?” 

Aziraphale’s mouth gapes. Questions. He squirms; dangerous territory, that. “I believe it was part of the covenant She made with Abraham --”

“I still call him Abram sometimes, do you know that? I just can’t get used to that extra sound. Abraham. A bit of a mouthful sometimes.”

Sarah picks up the dough again. She beats her hands into it. Aziraphale sips again at the milk, swishes it around in his mouth before swallowing it. Stalling. “It is all simply ineffable, I’m afraid.”

“Ineffable. Hm. So many things these days are.”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose they are.” Aziraphale watches Sarah knead and knead and knead. Bits of flour catch in the folds of her wrinkled hands. He remembers suddenly what he’s here for today, what the Almighty has promised is in store for Sarah and her husband today, and Aziraphale’s stomach jolts. Sarah kneads and kneads and kneads, and she has no idea of what the Almighty has done to her. And to think that she will only learn of it secondhand from Abraham once the angels have left… well, it simply doesn’t seem fair.

So he puts down the jar of milk, faces Sarah head on, and says to her, “You don’t need to make those cakes, dear.”

Sarah looks up from her work. “Hm?”

“They’re not going to eat them. Gabriel and… and the other angel. No taste for food, unfortunately.”

Sarah laughs. “That is unfortunate, isn’t it? Afraid you’ll all be gluttons?” She puts the dough down and shakes flour from the front of her tunic.

“Not quite,” Aziraphale says slyly, a twinkle in his eyes. He stands up and extends a hand to Sarah. “Now how about we see what those three are up to? We did come on important business.”

Sarah takes the hand offered to her and rises to her feet, but she does not follow Aziraphale outside. “I don’t think they want me there. The other angels. The Almighty only speaks to Abraham, or haven’t you noticed?”

“Nonsense.” Aziraphale takes hold of her hand and they start walking to the cluster of men by the oak tree. But then Aziraphale stops and thinks, when was the last time the Almighty spoke to a woman? In the Garden, with Eve? He shakes his head. Better not to question to Her. When Sarah shoots him an odd look, he drops her hand and they start walking again. 

They are only a few yards away when Gabriel’s voice booms loudly across the empty land: “Your wife Sarah will have a son, and you will name him Isaac.” From this distance, Aziraphale sees Abraham’s eyes go wide with shock, and he feels Sarah beside him. And when she laughs, sharp and broken, he swears he feels a tremble in the air. 

Her laugh bends her double. She shakes as if in pain and cannot force herself to stop. Not when Aziraphale lightly touches her on the shoulder, not when the third angel whips around to stare in disdain, not when Abraham sucks in a quick breath between his teeth. She does not stop laughing until Gabriel, without turning to look at her, says to Abraham, “Why is she laughing?” Only then does the laugh leave her body as quick as it came, raw and abrupt.

Abraham does not shy from Gabriel’s piercing gaze. “You must understand, this comes as shocking news.” Aziraphale watches the tension gather in Abraham’s jaw. This is a man who has stared down the Almighty Herself; he is afraid of no angel. And that makes him dangerous. Staying back with Sarah, Aziraphale can only hope Gabriel takes no offense. 

Rather than offense, Gabriel seems rather confused. “No really, why did she laugh? The Almighty does not make jokes. And besides, is there anything too preposterous for The Lord?”

“No. There is not,” Abraham says.

Gabriel adjusts the set of his tunic on his shoulders. “Good.” Still to Abraham, he says, “Someone will return in nine months to oversee the birth. This is exciting news, perk up a little! You’ve been made ancestors of the Almighty’s chosen people!” Gabriel smiles and Aziraphale grimaces. “Well, if that’s all, we’re off to Sodom. Abraham, if you wouldn’t mind accompanying us?”

Abraham nods without speaking and follows Gabriel and the third angel away from the oak tree. “Aziraphale, do you intend to come too?” the third angel asks.

“No,” Aziraphale says, perhaps too quickly. He knows what they intend for Sodom, and after today, he's not sure he can stomach the mission anymore. “I think it’s best for me to hang around here, do what I’ve always done. Sniff out temptation and wily demons and all that.” He laughs weakly. Oh dear, he hopes dearly that Crowley isn’t involved with Sodom. He would hate to hear he’d been smited with the city. 

“Very well. Keep up the good work.” Gabriel pats Aziraphale on the shoulder. When this puts him in front of Sarah, he sets his eyes intently on her, fiercer than Aziraphale has seen from him in some time.

And then Gabriel walks past her, but not before Sarah blurts out, “I did not laugh.”

Aziraphale does not know why she tries to deny it. They all heard her. They saw her. She clamps her mouth shut hard enough that her teeth clack together, and it appears that she can’t believe the betrayal of her own tongue either. 

There is harsh silence. Gabriel stops dead in his tracks, falls completely still. The third angel stumbles a bit, tripping on Sarah’s insolence. Sarah meets the silence with one thundering breath and takes a step forward towards Gabriel, then another. “I did not laugh,” she says, voice crumbling around her lips, but there is something wild in her conviction. 

Gabriel cocks his head to the side and chuckles. When he looks at her over his shoulder, his eyes meet Sarah’s immediately and she takes a skittering half-step backwards before recovering herself and her ground. His mouth pulls up into a grin, all teeth and no eyes, and he says, “Oh yes you did.” Time seems to stand still around his words. He beckons Abraham and the third angel to keep following him and does not stop looking back at Sarah for some time.

Sarah falls to the ground when the three men disappear as specks into the horizon like someone cut the tendons from her knees. Aziraphale flits around her, reaches a tentative hand to her shoulder again, but she immediately brushes him off. “Ninety years old and a mother-to-be. Ridiculous.” Her voice is a whisper soft as any other, but Aziraphale cannot miss the bloody sting of it against his ears. 

Aziraphale walks away from Sarah, away from Gabriel. He walks to anywhere but here or there, here or Sodom. He does not expect to see Sarah again. He doesn’t imagine she’ll take too kindly to angels at all anymore. He chews on his bottom lip thinking of the grotesque way Sarah’s stomach will bloat and stretch around the wrinkles.

“Is this punishment, Lord?” Sarah wails quietly. Aziraphale looks back only once to see her arms wrapped tight around her midsection as if to suppress the fluttering of life in her womb. He looks away feeling nauseous. 

She is the vessel for a multitude of nations, he thinks, for the Almighty’s chosen people. And if the Almighty commands it so, then it must be good.


End file.
